


Dance in the Graveyards

by chemicalburnfromthespiralperm



Series: Lorelai Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sam, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-10 10:01:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6978811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemicalburnfromthespiralperm/pseuds/chemicalburnfromthespiralperm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So what was it, hmm?  What could possibly make you stop just like that?  A girl?  Was there a girl?"</p><p>"The girl had nothing to do with it."</p><p>Sam doesn't look for Dean, and ya, Dean's pissed, but he never imagined that this was the reason why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fidelity

"So what was it, hmm?  What could possibly make you stop just like that?  A girl?  Was there a girl?"

Sam has done so much of this, this looking away thing, this not making eye contact thing that he's not sure how much longer he can keep it up.  There's a blatant lie right between them, and the marks across his stomach that Dean still hasn't seen yet are telling the tale for him already.  There's something lingering between them.  Dean is angry and yet Sam can still tell how much he just wants to reach over and touch him.

Sam wouldn't let him if he tried.

"The girl had nothing to do with it."

"So there was a girl."

"Ya, there was.  And then there wasn't."  He feels his stomach sink lower and lower into himself.  "Any more questions?"

Dean chuckles to himself, but there's no humor in it.  Sam's phone vibrates in his pocket and he can tell they're done with this conversation for now.  Dean's rabid, like some crazed animal and there's no getting through to him, not now at least.

"I'll be right back."

It's a phone call from her, from Amelia.  He misses it by the time he steps outside but he's grateful that she picks up right away once he calls back.

"How is she?"

"Hello to you too, Sam.  She's fine."

He can't stop himself from rolling his eyes.  His fuckin' spidey senses have been going off since the second he stepped out of that house.  You can't turn them off once they're one, he's starting to realize.  He's also never been away from her this long.  He feels like he's missing everything.

"You're sure?  Is she eating?  How's her face?  I knew I shouldn't have taken the gloves off of her so soon.  I should have trimmed her nails, I --"

Amelia is chucking softly over the line.

"Calm down, daddy.  She's fine.  Perfect, in fact.  She's asleep, just went down about ten minutes ago.  Her face is fine and she's eating just fine.  She's perfect, Sam, but I know she misses her father.  When will you be back?"

Another question he's been dreading to answer.  He blinks away tears.

"I'm not sure. I... Dean is back."

"Wait, your husband Dean?  Dean Winchester?  Dean Winchester who died?  Dean Winchester who is now suddenly back to life?"

"It's... it's a long story, babe.  I'm with him now.  I'm..."

"Does he know?"

Amelia, quick with the draw, quick with the shining light on shit Sam doesn't want to think about right now.

"No.  I... I haven't been able to tell him."

"What do you mean you haven't been able to tell him?  'Dean, I missed you! I'm glad you're back!  Also, you got me pregnant before you died-went missing-disappeared and now we have an infant daughter (who is literally the most precious thing on this earth and auntie Amelia loves her SO much), surprise!'  Not that hard, Sam!"

"Yes, Amelia!  That hard!  Literally that hard!  I can't just... you don't understand.  It's a long story."

"Longer than the story you already told me?"

"You have no idea."

"You need to tell him, especially because I know with the hunting thing you can't really carry a baby around with you, and I'm not ready to be a full time mom."

"I'm not giving her up.  I'm... I'm not doing to her what my father did to me."  But fuck him if he wasn't already doing it.  Leaving her with strangers, not telling people about her...  He was a walking clone of John Winchester if he was anything.

"You're not your father, but you need to tell him, and you need to come back.  You said a week, and I know most parents can't stand being away from their kids for more than an hour and you are no different."

He hates himself for this, but he wipes a tear off of his cheek.  Amelia has been sending him picture after picture and he can't bear to look at them because they break his heart.

He misses his daughter.

"Tell him.  No matter what's going on between you guys, there can't be anything more important than her."

"I've gotta tell him."

"You've gotta tell him.  Lorelai is fine here, you know that, and you know I'm just grateful for the time I get to spend with her.  Let me know if you need more time but don't stay gone too long.  I know she wants her dad."

"Please tell her I love her.  I love her more than anything."

"She knows, doll.  Go talk to Dean."

The phone goes silent and Sam takes a minute to himself.  His daughter is back in Texas without him, living and learning the world without him while he's here with Dean.  Dean could care less about him and yet, Sam is still here.  He lets his head fall against the door, maybe a little too hard, hoping that it'll maybe knock some sense into him.  Who fuckin' knows.  Maybe it'll hit him hard enough to knock him out.  If he's dead he doesn't have to deal with all of this.

Sam lifts his shirt up and admires the stretch marks, the small pouch of tummy that still hasn't gone away.  He's shocked at what he can put his body through and still bounce back from.  He had a child and his body went right back to the way it was before.  It was incredible.  Dean would be surprised to see the extra skin, the gut Sam has that replaced the washboard abs he was so proud of having before, but if that's the price he had to pay for their daughter, he'd pay it tenfold.

He's gotta tell him.

He drags himself back inside and Dean's in the same place, tucked against the foot of the bed on the floor, going through old phones.  Dean doesn't bother looking up so Sam just sits down.

"Listen, I know this is gonna sound crazy to you.  I don't even need you to necessarily understand, but... you need to know.  I didn't just drop out, Dean.  I found something. Something I've... never had.  All my life."

"What was her name?"

Sam takes a deep breath.  "Lorelai."

"So what, you dropped your peanut butter in her chocolate?  How'd it happen?"

"I hit a dog."

 


	2. I Gave You All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken a lot of liberties while keeping Sam and Amelia true to themselves. I feel that had Sam and Amelia met under different circumstances, a lot of their misunderstandings could have been avoided. This is my interpretation.

**nine months prior.**

"Help.  I need help!  The dog needs help!"

"That way!"

"He just -- he just came out of no where right in front of my car!  We need a doctor, are you a doctor?"

"The doctor's coming, sir.  But I'm not sure --"

"You're not sure what?!  This is an animal hospital!  You save animals!  Save this animal!"

"Roberta, can you escort this gentleman out, please?"

"I... I..."

"Roberta!"

_There's some kind of fuzzy no place that Sam has been transported to, a weird limbo where nothing and everything are here all at once.  There's no walls here and there's no floor here but Sam feels like he's standing on solid ground.  In the distance he can hear people shouting, but it's not enough to pull him from this reverie.  Dean is dead and Sam killed a dog while trying to kill himself and now he's here, in a no place.  It's very strange how your mind distracts you while the world is falling apart._

_Obviously people are touching him, he hears sirens, but it's not more important than being here, than seeing the face he's seeing._

_"Hey, darlin'."  Dean's got that teeth-rotting honeycomb sweet voice that just drips in all the right places and Sam's knees are weak.  Dean isn't dean here and Sam can live with that._

_"You left me, y'know."  Dean just chuckles and reaches out for Sam's hand._

_"Ya, I'm dead but you still found time to get rid of these ugly sideburns.  I'm proud of you, at least."_

_Sam rolls his eyes, lets Dean play with his fingers until their holding hands and he feels like he wants to die.  He feels a pull towards something, a light._

_"Whoa, now, don't you go running off just yet.  There's something here for you, something better."_

_"Nah, nothing better.  Not when you're gone.  I don't know if you've noticed over the last, I don't know, **our entire lives** , we literally cannot function without one another, so whatever that is, pass it on to the next person.  I don't deserve it.  I gotta get to you."_

_Dean pulls back and with a finger under Sam's chin, he lifts his head just so to press a kiss against his lips._

_"Don't do it, Sam.  Please.  For me.  Trust me, you're gonna want to stick around for this."_

_"I love you."_

_"I know.  Me, too.  Just trust me, kid.  You're gonna want to wake up now."_

And literally, in an instant lightning crashes and it burns right through his mind.  He's blinking awake in a white hospital room with too many things hooked up to him and too many people standing around.

"Mr. Cooper?  Mr. Cooper, can you hear me?"

There's a light being shined in his eyes and he feels like he's going to be sick.  Too late.  He is sick.  Someone's there to catch it.  It takes him a moment to catch his breath and finally open his eyes.

"I'm... Dean.  Where is Dean?"

"Mr. Cooper, I'm Dr. Phillips, do you know where you are?"

"Texas.  Kermit, Texas.  I'm... but where?"

"You're in the hospital, Sam.  You had a fall.  Shh, it's okay.  I'm here.  Nurse, please get him some water.  Sam, I need you to focus, please.  You had a nasty fall in the veterinary clinic, and the doctor called 911.  You passed out.  We've been running tests all night but it seems like you're just dehydrated.  When was the last time you ate?"

Sam finally finds it in him to shove her hands away.  That fucking light is blinding him.  He gets it -- gotta check for concussion, but Jesus Christ, lady, give him a break.  Apparently he _just_ collapsed.  It takes a guy a second to come back from that.

"I don't remember. I hit a dog. Is it alive?"

"Sam, I need you to focus.  When was the last time you ate?"

He actually tries really hard to remember.  It must have been days ago.  He's suddenly starving.

"I guess...  Maybe two days ago?  Maybe three?  It's...  my brother just died.  He's dead.  He's...  I was trying to --"

"Shh, Sam.  Here, drink this.  I have one more test I want to run and then I'll be back, okay?  Nurse, can you get him a dinner tray?  Thank you.  Just rest, Sam.  A nurse will be in to take some blood from you shortly."

Sam tears into that nasty hospital food like he hasn't eaten in years.  It's nasty turkey mashed potatoes gravy dinner roll pudding shit but it tastes like it came from a fuckin' Red Lobster.  His head is pounding and he wants Dean but Dean is dead for all he knows.  You don't just disappear and come back from that, so for now, the food will have to do.  His clothes are folded neatly on the chair next to the bed, wallet atop the pile.  There was no money in it -- always broke as fuck, but he did have an ID in there, apparently a fake one.  If they tried to run Sam Winchester he'd come up dead, and he's not exactly dead.

Dean is now, though.  He's got to keep reminding himself.

It's about an hour later that the doctor returns -- she'd rushed his labwork.  She's very nice, Dr. Phillips.  An older woman, graying and chubby.  She's not short but she's not very tall, and she seems keen on taking care of him which is nice because Dean won't be around to do that anymore.

"Sam, when was the last time you went to the doctor?  Or had any kind of care?  You're body, it's...  you've been through the ringer.  I'm honestly shocked your as in shape as you are."

"I don't go to the doctor.  Obamacare isn't really my best option right now."

She nods and scribbles some notes.

"I ran a lot of tests, Sam.  You're biggest issue right now is that you're anemic.  It's very dangerous, with how low your levels are.  You may have been feeling tired or sluggish."  She's explaining the last three months to a T.  "Good news is that it's very treatable.  I've got you on a few different drips right now, mostly to help combat the dehydration and the malnutrition, but also to help with the iron deficiency.  You're also pregnant."

"That's really funny.  No, seriously.  Good one.  Next.  What's wrong with me?  Why did I pass out?"

"You're pregnant, Sam.  No joke.  You hCG levels are very high.  I'd like to do an ultrasound, if you'd allow it.  I highly, highly recommend it.  Chances are you passed out because you were dehydrated or because your nervous system is still adjusting.  Fainting and dizziness are extremely common during pregnancy, however, I would really like to do that ultrasound."

Pregnant.  Dean knocked him up.  That mother fuckin' son of a bitch would knock him up and then DIE just to get out of changing diapers.   Sam can feel his heart racing, his breathing getting more shallow.  He needs to calm down but how the fuck is he supposed to do that when his dead brother got him pregnant with an incest baby?  What if there's something wrong with it?  Isn't there like a 55% chance that something could go wrong when siblings procreate?

"I'm...  Okay.  Do the ultrasound."

She thinks Sam is twelve weeks, given the date that Sam and Dean last had sex.  He knew they should have used a condom, but with everything going on there wasn't really time to stop and think.  Bobby was gone, everything was going to hell in a hand basket and it kind of just happened.  They didn't plan it, and it was honestly one of the most intimate times they had ever shared together...  and look what it gave them.  Sam got weepy staring at the blob on the screen.  It didn't look like much but it was his.  Theirs.

"Are you okay, Sam?  Is the father around?"

The father.  Their baby's father, Dean.

"Um...  no.  He's dead.  He died...  a few months ago.  Um...  it hasn't been very long but holy shit if we knew we were going to get pregnant."

She gives him a soft smile and puts her hand on his shoulder.  "He'd be proud to know you have a healthy baby.  It's exactly where it's supposed to be, right size, right shape.  I mean, obviously there's more we'll know once you're further along and you find an OBGYN you like.  There are more tests and things, but from what I can see, you're just fine.  You need to get that anemia under control, and you need to eat better, but you're fine, Sam.  And so is your baby."

"My baby."

My baby.

"We're gonna keep you for a few days, Sam.  You hit your head when you fell and we just want to make sure you and your baby are okay."

He thanked her and there he was.  Alone with the blob in his stomach that had a hand in making him so sick and tired the last few months.  Twelve weeks he'd had this thing, this being inside of him, sucking the life out of him.  Dean had still been alive when he'd conceived.  Now Dean was dead and he was alone.  Or, not alone.  Not alone at all.  He tentatively let his hand hover over his belly, but couldn't bring himself to touch it.

This alone time was not boding well, and he thanked God when there was a knock on the door.

"I hope I'm not bothering you.  They said you were awake."

The dog doctor.  Now that he has a chance to really look at her, she's cute.  Curly hair, a little tall, sporty.  Beautiful eyes.  He hoped the dog was okay.

"I'm awake.  Um, you didn't have to come here.  To see me.  That's...  I appreciate it, though.  No one else would have come.  Come in, please.  Sit down."

She gave him a tight smile and entered the room.  There was a stuffed bear in her hand, and she haphazardly gave a shrug as she set it on his table.

"I felt weird coming in here empty handed.  I almost bought you candy, but I didn't know what kind you would have wanted.  It's not every day humans pass out in my operating room.  Well, it's never actually.  I've never had that happen.  It was very scary.  Don't do it again.  What's wrong with you?"

God, where does he even begin?

"Um, pregnant.  Apparently.   I, um... just found out.  I'm also anemic, which is new."

"Pregnant?  Oh, my gosh!  That's...  that's quite the news.  Are you okay?!  You hit your head on the table going down.  I was sure you were down for the count!  I...  I had to come check on you.  You had me worried.  And I wanted to give you an update on your dog."

"Tell me he's okay?"

"Perfectly fine.  He had some internal bleeding and a few fractures but he'll recover, and both of you can go home and get well together."

He shrugged.  "Don't really have a home to speak of, right now.  Not really anywhere to go."

"I think we're two strangers who're more alike than we have any right to be.  I'm staying in a motel.  Like.  Living there.  I'm on my own, too.  Am I allowed to ask where the baby's dad is?"

Sam almost answers her before the response gets caught in his throat.  He can't breathe suddenly, but swallows the sorrow away.

"I'd rather you didn't.  You never told me your name."

"Amelia Richardson.  Your name is on the door, but I'd rather hear it from you."

He smiles softly.  "Sam Winchester.  It's nice to meet you, Amelia.  Thanks for coming to check on me.  I don't have anyone else to come check on me, so I'm glad someone did."

Amelia's smile brightens him slightly.  Even if he never sees her again, he's not alone.  Absolutely not.

"Are you planning on staying in town?"

"I hadn't thought about it."  He really hadn't.  He hadn't planned on passing out and discovering a pregnancy while here, so plans change, he guesses.  He'd been on the move since Dick, not where permanent.  He'd fixed up the Impala and just ran, never looked back.  He'd picked up a few books on how to save Dean, contacted a few demons, even tried to find Crowley but they'd all disappeared.  Every last one of them, off the face of the earth like they'd never existed.  He had half a mind to think that maybe Crowley had told them to steer clear of Sam, to stay away from him because he deserved to be "well and truly alone."  Who fuckin' knew.

"Maybe you should.  That motel I'm staying in is pretty nice.  Nice lime green wall paper...  pretty sexy."  Again, her smile was radiant and Sam actually found himself smiling for once.  He hadn't done that since well before Dean died.  "Um, I should leave you alone.  It was really nice to meet you, Sam.  Please feel better?  And congrats on that baby.  Take care of yourself."

Sam didn't think he'd see her again, but she returned every day at lunch time with a salad and a cup of coffee to share with him.


	3. Sigh No More

**eight months prior.**

Sam spends the next few weeks going out of his way to not touch his stomach.  It's relatively flat still, barely losing definition in his abs.  Dr. Phillips gave him the okay to keep working out, so he does, and he goes hard.  He and the dog, Riot, go running, jogging, to every park he can find even if he has to drive there.  He does his best to forget about everything.  He's pregnant but he's not broken.  He's still a person and Dean is still dead.  The sweat pours off of him, drips down his chest and makes its way through the crevasses of the abs that won't be there for very long.

It was never a question of whether he would keep it or not.  It was always "his baby."  Their baby.  Dean's baby even though he was dead.  He thought about looking for him, but what good would that do everyone if he turned up dead, too?  There's someone else to worry about now.  Sam's entire family isn't dead because now he's growing a new member.  His own body is the house that's nurturing this new life, thanks to one mistake.

One condom left to the wayside just for some intimacy.  He remembers it vividly -- the kitchen table in that cabin after Bobby crossed over.  It was just them, alone with themselves for once and before Sam knew it Dean was tearing his shirt in half.  Too many hands and too many kisses, pain and friction but so much love.  So intimate and over before it had really even started but God damn did it feel good to hold Dean Winchester in his arms like that, to trace his tattoo with his lips and bite at his skin before Dean let go inside of him.  There was so much of Dean everywhere -- on his lips, on his body, in him, around him...  But there was never such a thing as too much Dean.  Soulmates.  Whatever.

Sam is pregnant now.  Takes prenatals.  Eats when he's supposed to (even if it's with a reminder three times a day that he set on his phone "EAT SOMETHING FOR THE BABY" and never "for yourself) three times a day.  Always healthy, though sometimes he craves those nasty, greasy burgers from the fast food joints on the way to the next nowhere that Dean loved to eat.

"You're already like Dean," he says to it, but then a few hours later it decides that was a very disagreeable food choice and proceeds to reintroduce Sam to his meal in a less agreeable form.

Pregnancy.

Cake walk.

There are no demons around because trust him, Sam tried to find them, any of them, to bring Dean back but none would answer.  No crossroads demons across most of the southern United States -- Sam knocked on every fuckin' crossroads he could find.  He figured, if anything, those bastards would want the next Boy King of Hell to raise a demonic army, but none came knocking.

No one was more terrified of birthing the antichrist than Sam, and even though an amniocentesis can't detect demon blood, it still eased his worries.  A perfectly healthy baby.  Even if it wasn't perfect, Sam would still love it.  It'd be his perfect baby because it would be his and Dean's.  It's the demon blood he's worried about.  Sometimes he looks down, glances at the thick veins in his arms and wonders if the baby is getting any of this dirty blood.

Babies have their own blood supply, Sam.

I know, but I can still worry.

**five months prior.**

Kermit, Texas is home.  It's not home, not really, but the motel room has his things in permanent places.  He always finds his shoes outside the bathroom door.  There's a line of salt across the doorway and every windowsill that's never been smudged.  His underwear and socks are in the top drawer, shirts in the second and pants in the third.  The bible was tossed aside long ago.  His shampoo and conditioner and all the extra bottles are lined up under the sink.  The kitchen is stocked with his favorites -- cereal, soup, spaghettio's, salad in the fridge.  This isn't a home but it's as close to one as Sam will ever be.  His home is dead.

He swings his feet out of the bed as best he can, lays a hand across a swollen stomach and mourns for his abs until a baby gives him a swift kick.  It's enough to wind him for a second, and then it reminds him that all of this will be worth it one day.  He's having Dean's child even though Dean isn't here.

"You're gonna kill me, just like he did, aren't you?"

There's silence under his skin and he just rolls his eyes, pushes himself off the bed as best he can at seven months pregnant.  No morning sickness, thank the fuckin' Lord, swollen ankles to match the belly.  Seven freakin' months and his body doesn't feel like his anymore.  It's not his, not really.  He glances at himself in the mirror, pulls his tanktop up to look at his stomach and sees a few new stretch marks gracing his skin.  They're itchy.  He reaches for the coconut oil and smooths it over the aches, relishes in the smell and thanks his stars that this relives the pressure slightly.

This baby owns him and it's not even born yet.

It's almost hot outside, perfect weather for March in Texas.  The streets around them are busy with hustle and bustle but there are only two cars in the parking lot -- the Impala and Amelia's Jetta.

"Yo, Sammy -- you still up for one last handyman job before you globe out on us and get too fat to move around?"

"Watch it --" he shoots a glare at the teenager, but can't help it when the glare dissolves into a small smile.  "I'm not too fat to kick your ass, Everett.  What do you need, buddy?"  The door to the office shuts behind him, the bell on top of the door ringing blissfully, probably just happy to see some action since, apparently, the only two customers are him and Amelia.  That seems to be the trend.

Everett grins at him, dimpled cheeks and baby fat galore and points to the air conditioner next to him.

"One of the first things you ever fixed, Sam.  It's givin' out on you again.  What's your due date?  Tomorrow?"

Sam reaches across the counter and manages to swat him in the arm.  He's several months pregnant -- heavily is what some might call it -- but he can still run a faster mile than Everette can, even in this state.

"Watch it, pal.  I'll gerry rig this to only blow hot air straight at you while you sit there all day.  How's your dad?"  He sets his tools out in front of him after sliding a wad of cash across the counter.  His rent for the month.  "He feelin' any better?"

"So much better.  The new regimen the doc's got him on is so much better than the last one.  He can finally eat again.  Thanks for asking.  How's Elizabeanjamean?"

"Kickin' my ass," he says around a grin.  The pet name for the baby, which started out as "the Bean" and slowly transformed into Beanjamin, and then Elizabean, because Sam refused to find out the gender, sends a warm feeling blossoming in his chest.  He hoped to stay in this town for good, get himself a real home and not just a motel room where he stores all of the baby stuff he's accrued over the last seven months.  Everett promised to babysit.  Sam promised to take him up on it.  "I have an appointment tomorrow.  Wanna come?  Amelia will be there, and I know your dad said he wanted a picture.  I wouldn't mind."

"It's the least I can do -- accompany the elderly to their doctor's appointments.  Do you think I could put that on my next college app under community service?"

He manages to dodge the screwdriver Sam chucks at his head, and Sam doesn't let him know that he missed on purpose.

**three months prior.**

Amelia grins at him from across the room while she helps Donna Struthers cut her German coffee cake for the guests, and Sam rubs his back where an ache has been growing for the last two days.  He wonders for a moment when his life went from being shitty to not so shitty, but he knows not to look a gift horse in the mouth.  There are gifts everywhere of things Sam doesn't need and of things he wasn't sure how he was ever going to get -- carseat, stroller, crib, bassinet, baby bjorn thing, baby clothes, food, diapers.  Riot is barking out back, not used to seeing so many people in the house that he can't get to.  So many people in a podunk town in the middle of Texas care enough for him and his stupid dead husband to buy him and this incoming baby so much stuff.

For a while he'd been struggling to fit into any clothes he had, until Amelia got tired of seeing him strap hairbands around his jeans and still say they fit.  Maternity jeans were way more comfortable and way stretchier, and the hairbands were better suited for his hair.

"Sammy!  Almost time, huh?"

"Oh, Sam!  You're glowing!"

"Wow, you look incredible for nine months pregnant!"

"You can hardly tell from the back!"

"Congratulations!"

This sea of people and not one of them is Dean.  These fucking hormones have him sobbing into the cake every five minutes when he looks up to search for Dean's angry face because there's cake and not pie.  Who has pie at a baby shower, he'd ask, and Dean would grumble and press a kiss to Sam's lips.  No one would know they were brothers here, just a happy married couple that wasn't bothering anyone.  Dean would never stop hunting, but at least he took care of hunts in town and state so Sam would never have to worry.  Sam goes to school at the community college.  Sam has a real job.  They have things like insurance, real IDs and their names on a payroll.

But that's not true.  Sam is renting a house in Kermit, Texas with Amelia Richardson.  So, not technically alone, and also not technically alone with the eight pound baby in his undercarriage.  Elizabeanjamean would making its arrival soon enough, but first, and most obviously, a party.

Amelia bounces over to him with a slice of cake for herself and plops herself down.  She leans down and kisses his belly, whispers something he can't hear, and grins up at him from her vantage point.

"You are glowing, Sam.  No matter what you think.  You look beautiful, and I'm really proud of you.  Of us, actually.  Two drifters, finally settling down.  Granted, it's not with significant others and one of us is having a baby, I'd say we're well off, right?"  She giggles.  "I am proud of you.  Not a lot of people would be able to do this."

"I'm really not quite sure how I'm doing this.  I miss him.  He...  he should be here.  I want to be so angry at him but every time I try to be I just...  He'd love this so much.  All these gifts?  The party?  He said he hated this kind of stuff but he would have loved it, especially if it were for his first kid."

"Don't waste today trying to hate Dean.  He's here even if he's not here, you know why?  He's in that baby, and he's in you.  He's never really going to be gone, and this is going to fuckin' hard, but you have me and you have this town that you miraculously made fall in love with you by just being you.  You have a whole village behind you, even if you think you can't do it.  Besides, Everett promised to babysit and I know for a fact you wouldn't pass up on that.  So don't think about what you don't have today, okay?  Think about what you do."

There's a light that radiates from her smile, and Sam has no idea how he got so lucky.  He leans across the space between them and kisses her soundly.  What a mismatched pair.

"Thank you for doing this, this party.  All of this stuff.  This house, with me.  You have absolutely no obligation to any of this and you're still here."  He stops to laugh to himself for a minute.  "Our relationship is so fucked up.  I'm twice my size and I think I love you.  Our husbands are dead and I'm about to blow and I think I love you."

She just stares at him for a moment, Mona Lisa smile painted across her cherry lips.

"I think I love you, too.  Don't blow it, though -- I'm a catch."

He's unwrapping Donna Struthers's gift when his water breaks all over their new fuckin' sofa.  For a moment, Sam has a heart attack, he's sure of it.  His water broke because he's pregnant with Dean's baby and Dean isn't here.  How in the fuck is he supposed to have a baby when Dean isn't here?  How is he supposed to do ANYTHING when Dean isn't here?  There were lamaze classes and prenatal yoga and birthing classes and suddenly the only thing Sam knows how to do is scream.  Pain tears through him in an instant, the same place an ache has been growing for far too long.  Maybe that wasn't a cramp or soreness -- maybe it was god damn labor.  

Amelia is shoving the baby bag into the backseat of the Jetta as a contraction rips through his entire body and he thinks he's gonna break the door.

"You owe me a new sofa _and_ a new fuckin' car, Sam Winchester!  Don't you amniotic fluid all over my fuckin' front seat!"

He swears he's gonna give birth on the highway on the way to the hospital.  Amelia threatens to never speak to him again if he births a placenta all over the floor of her car.

No meds.  He deserves to feel absolutely every ounce of pain.  In his delirium, there's a male nurse that looks like Dean, and he keeps asking for him and crying when he comes into the room.  Amelia does her best, but what can you do?

Eleven hours he's in labor, and two of that is spent pushing.  She's by his side every step of the way, dabbing at his forehead with a towel, holding onto a leg for him when he can't anymore.

"I can't do this, I can't!  I can't do it!  I need Dean, I need him!"

"I know, baby!  He's here!  He's right here and you know it!  You need to meet your baby, and you'll see it!  It's gonna look just like him and he would be so proud of you!  

"Sam, if we don't get this baby out in the next few pushes, we need to take another course of action.  I need you to really focus here!  You've got some energy left in there!  I know you do!  There's another contraction coming so you take the biggest breath you can and you push for me!  Push for this baby!"

All of the faces looking down at him blur except for Amelia's -- she grins at him, tired eyes and a sweaty brow but she's here and she's been here and she believes in him.  Most importantly, they're all right -- there's a baby he needs to meet.  He doesn't know where he finds it, but there's a new found strength in his bones.  He pushes himself up on to his elbows, takes a breath, and bears down.  It hurts unlike anything he's felt in this world -- absolutely unbearable and unimaginable pain splitting him in half.  There's tension, and release.

"There's a head!  Sam, I can see the head!"

"Sam, do you want to birth your baby?  You can pull it out!  Just one more push and you can pull it out yourself!"

One more push and he's got his hands linked under tiny shoulders and he's pulling his own child from his body.  In that exact moment, all the pain vanished.  In its wake was left weary, and a screaming child.  It was the most pure thing Sam had ever felt or witness, the relieving of his own child from his body, a baby girl with too much brown hair and a wail that could match a siren's.  A healthy wail with all ten fingers and all ten toes, long legs and long fingers that she grabbed onto him with all of her might.  The relief that washed over him was incredible, and the sobs that left his mouth as he cradled that baby to his bare skin were not just for her, but for Dean.

She's here, and she's okay.

There's a lot of mayhem as they carefully take her from him to clean her and do the necessary tests.  Some giant ugly nurse is pressing on his stomach far too hard to get a placenta out and he wants to punch her.   He just pulled his own baby out of him and she's assaulting him.  How rude.  He's sweaty and ugly and his man bun is less than presentable but god damnit he did the impossible and gave birth to a baby that shouldn't be here, not without Dean.

They're both clean and cranky, both weeping until they're reunited.

"Eight pounds, eleven ounces, 22 inches long, Sam.  She's perfectly healthy.  Here's your daughter."

Sam can't help it -- she looks exactly like Dean and it makes him cry even harder when he gets to hold her again.  He's never felt a love like this, a bond so strong to something you hadn't met until literally ten minutes ago, this thing that had no connection to you other than surviving off of you for the last ten months, sucking you dry of your nutrition, your energy, your body and yet you are so in love with it you know nothing but the beginning and the end of this being.  Your baby, your child, something you and someone you were intimate with created out of that intimacy.

Sam and Dean Winchester's perfect child.

"Hey, you.  You owe me some abs, kid."


	4. Into the Empty White

**a week ago.**

She just stares at him, that's all she does, especially when he feeds her.  Amelia works during the day so Sam gets so much time with her all to himself, and he's fuckin' greedy for it.  She's so new and she's so beautiful, Dean's huge green eyes and Sam's nose and lips and so much curly hair and he has no idea where that came from.  She's got such a long body and she's already put on a lot of extra weight.  She's got these cute chubby cheeks and these fat little legs...  She's perfect, and she's all his.

He hums softly to her while she feeds, strokes her perfect little head and grins when she tries her damnedest not to fall asleep -- God forbid she misses something exciting the dog does.

It's been hard.  This is not Amelia's daughter, and being a single parent was proving to be the hardest fucking thing he would ever do in his life, harder than losing Dean.  It's been almost a year and he hasn't had time since she was born to be sad, not anymore.  Yes, he still wishes Dean were here to see her first sneeze or her first real smile.  Sam tells her all about her dad, her Dean and how strong and smart he was, how dad saved the world a couple times and how he probably loved her so much even though he never got the chance to meet her.

Bastard.

He sighs softly.

"Your bastard of a father -- always leaving me with the heavy lifting."

She looks up at him from under long lashes, still sucking, still hungry.

"Ya, you look just like him, too.  Well, mostly like me.  I don't know where you got this curly hair.  Who knows, maybe grandma had curly hair and we just don't know, hmm?  That's another person you'll never meet, your grandma.  Or your grandpa.  They'd all probably be mad at me that I didn't name you Deanna or Samantha or something after a family member.  I mean, I named you after grandma!  And I couldn't exactly name you Johnathina, that'd be dumb.  I think Lorelai is perfect.  Lorelai Mary Winchester.  My little angel.  You know, you saved my life.  It's probably not fair to put that kind of pressure on an infant, but you probably have no clue what I'm say.  I'm okay with that."

She just keeps blinking, and after a moment she gives him a huge, gummy smile around the nipple and Sam can't help but laugh.

"Go, mama, go!  Look at that big, beautiful smile...  God, you look so much like him.  I love you, and you know he loves you, too.  You'd be wrapped around his finger..."

**present day.**

_WINCHESTER, L. M._

_Lorelai Mary_  
_WINCHESTER_  
_10 - 6 - 2013_

Sam turns the small bracelet over in his hand, wonders at how impossibly tiny her wrists were and how damn impossible it was that she was here at all.  He has a few of her things stuffed in the bottom of his duffle, grateful that Dean doesn't go through his things or his cover would be blown.  He had a baby less than three months ago, when he thought Dean was dead, and now Dean is sitting across from him in a two bed motel room with ugly floral wallpaper clinging to the walls.  He's holding their infant daughter's newborn ID bracelet in his hands and Dean is none the freaking wiser.  Their backs are to each other, obviously, because how can Sam even begin to tell Dean the truth when he's so angry at him for a thousand other reasons?

People died, Sam.  People needed to be saved, Sam.  This is your fault, Sam.

Ya, well, he spent a year of his life not blaming himself so he guesses it's due time for him to feel like everything wrong with the would is his fault.  You're probably right, Dean.

How the hell are you supposed to tell someone this, the person you love, the person you've spent your literal entire fucking life with when they can barely look at you?

I had our baby while you were dead, I love you, I'm sorry.

"I'm gonna take a shower."

Sam shoves the bracelet back into its hiding place and slams the bathroom door behind him before Dean has a chance to respond.

There is so much he wants to say, so much that he can't say and so much that he wishes Dean just simply knew.  Yes, either way, Sam would have stopped hunting.  Either way, Lorelai or no, he would have stepped off the playing field.  It was the one thing that guaranteed that every single member of his family would end up dead, and it was 100 for 100.  Sam was alone, until that baby came along and changed his fucking life.

He's not sure if he's willing to pick Dean and hunting over a normal fucking life with that little girl.  It's honestly not even a question at this point -- which one does he love more?  It doesn't matter, but Lorelai called dibs the second Sam pulled her out.

The hot water hits his body like a silent prayer and he's grateful for the heat.  His belly is still puffy, still stretched and still peppered with salmony silvery lines near the base of his crotch and around his belly button.  He's proud of them, because they remind him of a time when he thought he'd never survive, and here he was, still here to shower and admire those scratches across his skin.  This skin carried life within it, and no matter how much Dean hated him, he couldn't bring himself to hate himself, not when he'd done what he did.

He lathers up real well when the bathroom door slams open.  It doesn't surprise him -- they've done this forever, it's all you can do when there's one bathroom, but what he didn't expect was for Dean to strip and climb in with him.  Dean's body is so hot, even without the water on him, and his hands land on Sam's hips before they land anywhere else.  Dean presses a kiss against Sam's shoulder blade, trails it up to the base of his neck and pushes his hair aside so he can truly admire the skin.

Sam hasn't been touched since the last time Dean touched him in these same places.

He's afraid to turn around but Dean doesn't ask him to, just awkwardly shuffles them so that Dean has a chance to stand under the spray that they're both too short for.

They're facing each other now, and Sam is so scared and Sam is so nervous, but Dean just places a hand around his neck and pulls him down into a kiss.  Dean's still mad, Sam can tell, but this has to be progress, this has to mean something.

"Dean, stop.  We need to talk."

Dean does that sighing thing that he always does and drops his head onto Sam's shoulder.  Sam can feel him roll his eyes.

"What, Sammy?  What?  Why can't we just forget all of that?  I haven't touched you in a year and ya, I'm real fuckin' pissed, but I missed you.  Can't you just give me that?"  Christ, he's so fuckin' needy and Sam wants nothing more than to give him exactly that, but how can he when he's basically fuckin' lying to the guy?  "Not to change the subject, but you really let yourself go in a year, dude.  What the hell happened to you?"

Sam pressed his lips together and reached down to shut the shower off.

"I told you -- we need to talk."

Dean watches Sam's body with eyes that are too attentive -- he's tracing all the lines of his new shape, all the hairs out of place and all the stretch marks across his skin that were never there before.  He doesn't bother wrapping the towel around himself.  Dean has seen enough.

They're dressed and sitting on a bed ten minutes later, Sam's wet hair tied up loosely on top of his head because he can't be bothered to do anything else with it at midnight.  He didn't bother putting on a shirt, just some sweat pants.  Dean still has that animal look about him, that angry, out of place, Hurt Locker look about him, and Sam's body is still recovering from pregnancy.  Two peas, two peas.  They have a baby that is both their daughter and their niece.  Can't really get more fucked up than that.

"What's wrong with you?  What aren't you telling me?"

Sam's not ready for this, not ready to lose Dean all over again, but this is it.  He goes to his duffle and pulls the tiny bracelet out.

"Her name is Lorelai but I never slept with her, Dean."

"L-Lorelai Winchester?  What is this, Sam?"

"When you...  I didn't look for you because I thought you died.  I literally had _no one_ \-- you, Bobby, mom, hell, even dad!  Everyone I know, all dead, because of this hunting thing.  Crowley took Kevin and disappeared and I'm pretty damn sure he took every demon in existence with them.  I tried, Dean.  I went to every crossroads I could find and no one was answering.  I tried to make a deal, Dean.  But you disappeared.  You...  I had no idea if you were alive or dead!  You just... weren't!  Where was I supposed to look?!  And...  and when I finally realized you weren't coming back, I decided I didn't want to, either.  I --"

"Sam, don't tell me --"

"Shut up.  Let me finish.  I tried to, I won't lie to you, but I ended up hitting a dog --"

"I knew I smelled dog in the back of that God damn car, Sam!"

"And I knew you'd throw a bitch fit, now shut the hell up and _let me finish_.  I hit the dog and when I brought it into the vet, I passed out.  Hit my head.  The vet called an ambulance, whole nine.  I was admitted for a week."

Dean just looks even more confused, and God damnit, this just isn't going to be easy.

"Dean, she told me I was pregnant.  You got me pregnant."

His brother looks from him to the bracelet to Sam's stomach and back to the bracelet and still doesn't get it.  He looks so confused and Sam wished there were a better way, an easier way, a less complicated way...  a way that Dean could know and still love Sam, a way that he could know and take one look at this baby and fall in love with her like Sam did.

How can everything be okay when it feels like it's falling apart again?

Sam shoves himself off the bed and joins Dean on his, and Dean's eyes are wide, studying every curve of Sam's new body.  He doesn't expect Dean to reach out and grab him, but he does, lays one hand flat against Sam's stomach and fuck him if a tear doesn't fall from Dean's eye.  He traces a stretch mark and sucks in a loud breath.

"Don't fucking lie to me, Sam."

"I was twelve weeks when you died, Dean."  Sam's crying, and he has no fuckin' clue when he started.  "I was twelve weeks and I was trying to kill myself, Dean!  But I didn't!  You, you...  she saved me, Dean.  I - I...  She's..."

Dean hasn't let go of Sam's belly or stopped crying.  Dean never cries.  Sam just wants him to fucking say something!

"You...  were pregnant, and you didn't tell me?  I was still alive, Sam.  You were twelve weeks pregnant and you didn't fucking tell me?"

"I swear to God I didn't know!  I swear it on everything I didn't know until that doctor told me.  We --"

"We have...  her name is Lorelai."  Dean's not easily readable for the first time in Sam's life.  He doesn't look angry or upset, and angry or upset he can deal with.  Angry he can handle...  but whatever this is is foreign to him.

"Dean, please tell me what you're feeling, I don't know.  I can't fix it if you don't tell me!"

"Where is she?  Where the fuck is she, Sam?  You had this daughter without me!  Obviously didn't fuckin' abort her, so where is she?!  Why the fuck do you have this bracelet and not the actual fuckin' baby, Sam?!"

He can't help but flinch at the severity of Dean's words.  They're too harsh, too loud in the tiny motel room.

"I can...  I can show you a picture of her, I can take you to her, Dean.  Don't...  don't talk about her like that."

"Talk about her like what, Sam?  Like I don't even fuckin' know her?  I've been stuck in purgatory for a year and you were off having a fuckin' baby, OUR BABY.  My daughter who is also my fuckin' niece!"

"Dean, I will not ask you again -- do not talk about her that way.  I carried that child for nine fucking months without you.  I went through eleven hours of labor, _without you_ , and I've been raising that baby without you for the last three months, and I will continue to do it without you if you don't watch your fuckin' mouth."

Dean blinks.  Fuckin' blinks.  Shock and awe.  For once in his god damn life, Dean Winchester is speechless.

"I went through nine months of hell alone in some bullshit town in Texas to bring that baby into this world.  I went through eleven hours of torture and pulled that child out with my own two hands and I didn't do that to have her other father speak that way about her.  You can ask whatever you want, Dean, but watch your damn mouth.  She's your daughter.  You can be angry, hell, you can never want to talk to me again but you won't talk about her that way.  Not my daughter, not after what I went through to bring her here."

Dean picks his jaw up off the floor and swallows thickly around a lump in his throat.

"I'm...  our daughter.  You had a baby while I was in purgatory, Sam?  Why...  how?  I'm...  What the fuck am I supposed to say?  We're hunters, Sam!  We can't bring a baby with us, we can't just quit!  We can't just --"

"Please meet her.  Please, just...  just hold her.  She's your daughter, Dean.  Ours and, God, she's perfect."  Sam's openly weeping now.  He misses her and he never expected to tell Dean this way, not even tonight.  He should have told Dean the second they met in the cabin.  "You...  it was eleven hours, but it was worth it.  Nine months and eleven hours to bring her here and she fucking saved me, Dean.  She saved me and you need to meet her.  Please, let's go now!  I...  I don't know a lot of things, not after losing you for as long as I did but I know this little girl and I know the curve of her lips and he fat cheeks and I know that she's ours, so please, let's go meet her.  Please.  Let me, Dean.  Let me."

"Lorelai..."

"Lorelai Mary Winchester.  June 10th, eight pounds, eleven ounces and 22 inches long and she's perfect."

"Let's go, Sammy."


	5. I Wish I Was the Moon

The car ride is beyond silent.  Sam sits in his spot like it's an age old ritual, a test of time, a testament to his habits old and new.  He was an addict, he was abused, he was taken advantage of, he self harmed, he drank too much and he had his bodily autonomy stripped not once or twice, but too many times, and you know what?  Despite all of those things he crawled out on the other side bloody and drunk but better for it.  He still has hope, he still finds the time for prayer.  He crawled up the mountain, fell down the other side bruised and broken, but still managed to bring a beautiful daughter into this world.

He saved the friggin' world more than once.

He can't do it anymore, this Dean dying thing.  How many times has he done this?  This "Dean dies and comes back to life" thing?  This "Dean dies and comes back and treats Sam like shit for the decisions he made when Dean was gone?" thing?

How many more times is everything going to be his fault?

Ya, the pavement speeds by them sticky and gross from too much sun and too much rain, and too many times Sam has contemplated throwing himself out of the window, but he wouldn't do that to Dean, and he wouldn't blame Dean for what he'd do if Sam really turned up gone.

He thinks about saying something, anything, but what can he say?  Sam's been trained to think any time he steps out of line or does something for himself he should feel ashamed.  Every time he holds Lorelai a pang of guilt stabs him in the stomach.  He shouldn't be happy because he doesn't deserve it.  He's not the happy type -- he's the sacrifice yourself for the better good type, even if it means you die in the process.  He thinks about these things because he doesn't know what he's going to do when they get back to that house.  Of course he's leaving Amelia forever.  Hopefully she'll understand, but what about Lor?  She won't understand.

Sam Winchester doesn't deserve to be happy if no one else is happy.  If there's still people dying, Sam has to save them first.  If there are still people hungry, Sam has to feed them first.  Sam has to sacrifice before someone else can sacrifice before him.

The car comes to a halted stop and Sam wasn't ready for it.  Their whole lives are gonna change again.

"Who's car is that?"

Dean's voice is raspy.

"Amelia's."  That ugly white Jetta collecting dust.  There are boxes lined by the trash can -- diaper boxes you get at the bulk store that come 100 to a pack.  There's a box from the playpen that Sam put up still sitting out there.  Sam imagines that Dean's thinking, "Wow, he really had a baby."  Sam just sighs heavily and steps out of the car.

Dean's grabbing his hand before he leaves.

"This...  I don't know what this is, Sammy."  Sam doesn't understand.  "You..."  He chews on his lip for a moment, trying to figure out what he wants to say.  "What does this mean, Sam?  You had a baby - our baby - without...  I mean, not without asking me, I was gone.  But you still had a baby.  Did you really think you were out of hunting forever, that you could just quit and leave all those people to fend for themselves?"

How dare you make a decision for yourself without thinking of other people first.

"What the fuck else did I have to live for, Dean?"  Sam angrily removes his arm from Dean's grasp.  "Get out of the car.  Stay here."

He's done talking to Dean for now, and he assumes that he gets the picture judging from the look on Sam's face.  

Sam doesn't knock, pulls out his keys and puts it into the lock and turns.  He hears her crying and his hair stands up on end.  Spidey sense.  There's barely a quick hello to Amelia before he's dashing through the house to her room.  There's something there, some kind of otherworld connection because fuck it if she doesn't stop crying the second he walks into the room.  She stops and Sam starts.  He hasn't seen her in three days but it feels like three years and she's grown seven times her size since then, he's sure of it.  Fuck it if this child doesn't grin ear to ear the second she sees him.  He reaches into the crib and pulls this beautiful child out and just loses his mind.  He's almost sobbing into the top of her head as he cradles her, carefully, gently.  His body has been aching for her.  His daughter.  His sunshine.

Sam whispers that he loves her into the top of her head over and over.  He wants her to know that he means it.

"Sam?"  He jumps slightly at Amelia's voice, doesn't bother wiping his eyes because she's seen him in worse states than this in the last year.  "Is that...  Dean?  Is that him outside?  Can I let him in?  He looks like a wreck out there.  What happened?"

"There's so much that you don't know that I can't even begin to tell you.  It's a really, really long story.  I'll go get him."

"Do you want me to take her?"

"No, it's okay."  Sam does step across the room to pull her into a hug and a kiss.  He's never been more grateful for her.  "Thank you.  Do you mind staying back until Dean's had a chance to understand all of this?"

"No problem.  I'm gonna step out through the back.  I need to run to the store anyway.  I'll be gone as long as you need.  Just text me."

They say their goodbyes and Sam takes a couple more minutes to be with Lorelai by himself.  They need each other, he's sure of it, because he looks into those huge aquamarine eyes and she looks into his and all is right with the world.  Literally everything is perfect.  

"It's time to go meet your dad."

When Sam gets outside Dean's sitting on the hood of the Impala with his head in his hands.  He's breathing deeply, probably trying to calm down.  Neither of them know how this is gonna go.

"Come inside, Dean."

There's a moment when everything stops.  Dean steps inside and doesn't even bother admiring the house, just beelines straight for Sam and the baby.  He's almost afraid, too scared to stand too close and too scared to say anything.

"Lorelai Mary Winchester.  Your daughter.  She's three months old, and she hates hard surfaces.  She hates it when she can't see absolutely everything that's going on, and loves to be in the little baby wrap thing that Mrs. Henderson next door bought us.  She loves sleeping with someone rather than her bassinet where I wish she would sleep for more than ten minutes.  She loves music, especially Zeppelin, and I'm positive over the last three days she's grown twice her size.  Dean, meet your daughter."

Sam doesn't even ask, he just hands her over.  For a second, Sam jumps because it looks like Dean's going to drop her, but he's got a good hold on her after a second.  She looks like she's going to cry until Dean gets his shit together and...  loses it.

He's never seen Dean openly weep like that but the second Sam handed her over their lives changed.  They have a daughter.  They're both crying, and Dean steps into Sam's space to rest his head on Sam's shoulder and he hears him say "Thank you."

Sam pulls him into a hug, kisses the side of his head, rubs his back and just lets him feel.  Their daughter.

"Lorelai," says Dean, lifting his head to get a better look at her.  She's all grins and bright eyes, and Sam is falling in love with her all over again.  "I should have been there, Sammy...  I should have - I should have found a way to get out sooner, found something, done something, I don't know, but I'm so fucking sorry you had to do this all by yourself.  I'm...  I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, please.  You're here.  Shh, please.  Look at her, she looks just like you."

Dean hasn't stopped looking at her, Sam can tell.  Her eyes are locked with his and the whole world stops.

An hour later, Dean is watching Sam bounce her in his arms gently, trying to assuage her screams.  She's hungry, and he's quite an expert at making her a bottle with one hand while jostling her with the other.  

"God, you remind me so much of mom."  Sam looks up quickly out of the corner of his eye, and Dean looks a little shocked.  "I never realized it, but you look just like her.  I...  I have this memory of her doing that with you, making you a bottle while you were screamin'.  She was singing to you, Hey Jude like she always did...  You look just like her, Sam."

He can't stop the smile from forming.  Mary is someone he doesn't know -- she's an echo of lost memories that he's not allowed to remember.  Sam was no one important.  They'd crowd around empty beer bottles and half-empty handles of whiskey and hoard their memories of her.  They'd gush to themselves just out of earshot of Sam as if he didn't know who they were talking about.  She's a ghost, dead because of him and he doesn't even know what she really looks like.  No home movies, no pictures, nothing.  Just an echo.  A shadow.

"I'm not leaving Lorelai without a parent.  I'm not leaving her.  I left her once and I'm not doing it again, even for you."

Dean smiles haphazardly.

"Trust me, I get it."

"No offense, but you really don't."  He finishes the bottle and she willingly takes it, almost instantly closes her eyes and sleeps gently in Sam's arms.  "You will, one day, but right now?  You don't."

"What are we supposed to do, Sam?  We've got a kid.  We can't...  There's all the shit with Kevin, we still gotta deal with Crowley, and you --"

"And I what?  How are you seriously talking about hunting right now, Dean?  How can that even be a thought in your mind when your daughter, whom you only met about an hour ago, is right here in front of you?  Can't you give it a god damn rest, even for just a day?  You just came back from purgatory and you already want to get back in!"

"And why shouldn't I want to, Sam?!  It's what I know!  It's what we know!"

"Keep your god damn voice down, you're gonna wake her."

Dean almost snarls as he gets up from his seat.  He makes his way over and pulls Sam into a threatening kiss.

"If you think I wouldn't drop all of that in a second for you, you're dead wrong.  If you wanted to stop right now, I would.  So what do you want, Sam?"

"Okay -- _stop_."


	6. Fire of Unknown Origin

"Okay -- _stop_."

Dean looks like Sam punched him in the face.  Sam's been doing a lot of this sticking up for himself since he got back -- apparently Dean doesn't know how to handle it.

Sam can see all the cogs turning in his head, all the pieces he's trying to fit together but he can't, not with the baby here now.  Maybe he thinks Sam made a mistake, maybe he's looking at the two of them and thinking how absolutely abysmally Sam fucked up this time -- not but jumping into Hell or using his fucking powers, but by bringing their daughter into the world.  The one thing that prevents Dean from living a completely carefree life, a child.  He can't be reckless with her around, if she is around at all.  If she knows him at all, grows to love him, he can't do what he wants...

And Sam will not leave this child without a mother.

"You really want us to stop...  I knew you hated this life, Sam, but to g--"

"Don't. you. fucking. dare."  Sam's taken a lot of shit from his brother in his lifetime.  He won't take this.  "Don't you dare look at me and this little girl and tell me I had her to get out of this life."

"Don't you walk away from me, Sam!"

"If you want to have this out, fine!  But I won't do it in front of her!"  He feels Dean's hand on his waist, and he nearly knocks Dean in the mouth to get out of his grip.  "Don't touch me, _**not** _ anymore!" It takes every ounce of will power he had not to slam Lorelai's door shut.  He's never felt so...  on fire in his life.  Lucifer, the demon blood...  nothing compares to the anger he feels flying through his head like quicksilver.  It's too much, too fast, too hard, and too heavy.  He almost can't see, and he's afraid that he feels this way while holding his baby girl.  She's fast asleep and rests easy when he lays her down in her crib.  He can't just leave her, so he turns the baby monitor on, makes sure it's working perfectly before leaning against the wall and sliding down into his misery.

Dean was back.  They were supposed to be happy.  Dean wasn't supposed to be like this.

Sam was content that Dean was dead and he'd never be coming back -- maybe not content, but he'd settled.  He'd dealt with his grief.  It would swallow him alive one day but he had something else to focus on, something more important.  She was a part of them, and Sam needed to protect her, and that meant getting a house and a real job and quitting the life.  For good.  No one ever gets out, not really, but God damnit if Sam hadn't hoped that would've been the last fucking time.  He never made a conscious decision to have that life become one thing or another, it just happened before his eyes.  A house with a girl he maybe loved.  It was bullshit, that this thing with Dean was a foreboding shadow that cast darkness on any emotion he'd ever had for another human being.  No one else was as important, and that's why this felt so ugly and conflicting.

Sam loved Lorelai more than Dean, and for what reason other than he'd given birth to her, other than that they shared the same body and the same life force for ten months, other than that she was his and no one else's?  Sam and Dean were soulmates, whatever the fuck that meant...  but Lorelai was his child.  That transcended everything.

"I know what it is," Dean says when Sam finally gets the courage to walk back out into the living room.  Dean's on the couch with his head in his hands, didn't even bother looking up.  "You're a parent."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Dean?  You're a parent.  You've been a parent your whole life.  Who raised me?  It wasn't John Winchester, I'll tell you that much.  And it certainly wasn't Mary."

"That wasn't her fault.  Don't talk about her that way."

"Don't talk about Lorelai that way.  You're her father."

"But am I, Sam?  Am I?  You're her mother!  You gave birth to her, you connected to her in ways I can't even begin to understand but I don't know anything about that child.  I think you expected me to hold her and exactly what happened to you would have happened to me.  I would have magically fallen in love with her just like you, but you know what I see?  A liability.  A way for someone to hurt you."

"As if you weren't already my liability."

"You wanted me to hold her and throw away everything I have ever learned, everything I've ever been taught in favor of having this life with you and her.  This perfect backyard barbecue life!  Well, it fuckin' hurts, but I don't...  I _can't_.  I've gotta find Kevin.  I've gotta kill Crowley.  I've gotta -- "

"Leave.  You've gotta leave.  You're really good at that lately."

Dean doesn't even have a response for that.  He presses his lips together and wipes a tear from his eye.  They're breaking up.  They both know it.

"I don't want to, Sam."

"Then don't.  No one's making you do anything, but _one_ of us has a child that they now have to think about.  Do you have...  do you have any fucking idea how many times I've lost you?  I jumped into the cage, Cold Oak, whatever, but I lived through 100 Tuesdays and that alone never got easier, even when I knew it was coming it still fucking hurt every God damn time.  I lost you when I went to Stanford, I lost you all those Tuesdays, I lost you when your deal came through...  and every God damn time I still have to get used to the idea that you're never coming back.  Every time I have to learn how to live without my fucking soul because you're gone...  and the last time you left, when I thought it was so fucking real because to me, it was, I learned.  I grew.  I had a fucking baby and I got over it.  Ya, I didn't have you to ask permission, but I didn't have anyone.  I tried to kill myself and I would have killed her too if not for a million extra factors.  That kid is my whole fucking life."

"You love her more than me."

"Ya, I fuckin' do, and if you love me more than her, you won't go.  You'll stay here and you'll clean up your mess."

Dean's silent.  They sure do a good job of not talking about their feelings...  except for now.  Sam's never told Dean any of this.  Yes, they know how much it hurts to live without one another but they've never talked about it.  Sam doesn't feel better, he feel's worse, but there's less pressure on his skull now.

"I'm serious, Dean.  We're brothers first, whatever else second and soulmates dead last, so make up your mind.  You've got me and a daughter.  You can leave, or you can stay and fix it.  I don't...  I know you love hunting, but I know you love me more.  I know you don't know anything about this kid, but damnit, Dean...  she's yours.  She's got your eyes."

Dean stands and closes the space between their bodies,  They lace their fingers and Dean leans up for a kiss.

"Sam."

"If you leave, you leave."  Sam's throat is burning.  These words are ugly and he doesn't want to say them.  His forehead rests against Dean's.  "I just got you back...  but I don't want her knowing about you.  If you leave, that's it.  She can't go through what I went through.  You can't be half in, half out.  You either leave or you stay, but you can't dance in and out of her life and make her wait for you."

"Sam -"

"No, Dean.  I'm serious.  She can't fall in love with you like I did and have you break her heart like that.  She's a baby, a child.  I have to think about her because you won't.  I'll tell her - I'll tell her...  I don't know."

"You're going to lie to her?"

"If it means I'm protecting her, then yes.  I'll do anything."

Dean pulls away from him reluctantly, and Sam can tell this is the end.  It's more finite than Stanford or Hell -- neither of them are dead, but this is still the end.  A mutual decision, a choice to end it so no more people will get hurt.  Dean gets to hunt and Sam gets to raise their... _his_... daughter.

Dean talks about sending Sam money.  Sam doesn't want it, but he knows Dean will send it anyway.  Child support.  It makes Sam sick.

I love this child more than you.  I love hunting more than I love this child.

They talk until they're hoarse, until they're blue in the face, until there isn't anything left to talk about.

There's a photograph on Sam's phone that was taken about four months ago and not by him.  Chances are he didn't even know the picture was being taken until his phone was being handed back to him.  He's got his left hand on his lower back in the way that pregnant people do, and the other hand splayed wide across a large stomach.  He's gotta be eight or nine months pregnant, and he's just god damn glowing -- utterly radiant with a huge grin on his face and a dog next to him.

Lorelai started crying, so Sam doesn't even know that Dean has his phone, is going through the pictures he'd taken in the last year.  Some of the Impala, befores and afters of repairs, several self-taken photographs of Sam in front of motel mirrors documenting his growth.  There's one from each month, each picture in the same position with a different shirt pulled back to show off his changing body.  There's a video of Sam during the last few weeks of the pregnancy.  He's sitting on a nondescript sofa watching what sounds like the Kardashians, but that's not the focus -- it's Lorelai and Sam playing through his skin.  He pushes his fingers into the taut skin and a few moments later there's a foot or a hand pushing back, clearly seen.  You can hear Sam's little laugh, and he pushes again.  He says, "wow," after a few seconds, watching his stomach ripple right in front of him.  There are so many artifacts from this time, snapshots and the like from the most recent time when Sam was without Dean.  He couldn't repaint his whole year for Dean if Dean cared.

Sam returns with a sleepy baby in his arms.  Every time he tried to put her down, she started screaming again.  She wants to be in one place -- Sam's arms.

"She won't go back to sleep.  I'm sorry.  She needs to stay out here."

Dean sets Sam's phone down on the coffee table, scrubs his face with his hand.

"I'm not leaving.  Not yet.  Maybe not at all, I don't know.  Can I hold her?"

Sam tries not to look shocked or concerned, so he nods and crosses to the couch to lay her in Dean's arms.  She fusses for only just a moment -- Dean loves kids, but he's never had one that was his before, so he's not sure, until she locks eyes with him.  Sam wants to see the magic happen, wants to see Dean fall in love with her but he can't impress that upon Dean.  He can't ask Dean to want something he doesn't.

Lorelai starts to cry, and Dean just grimaces.

"No, don't do that.  You're fine, it's...  it's me.  It's dad.  I'm...  shh, it's okay, baby girl.  No need for that, not while I'm around."  Sam wishes he wouldn't talk like that to her if he didn't mean it.  "I can't leave you," he says, turning to look up at Sam.  "I can't abandon you, and I can't leave her, either.  There's so much to do but I told you, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Sam.  If this is what you want, if this is what you need, then we'll work it out.  Who knows, maybe I leave for a while and find Kevin and then come back and everything is okay.  You can't leave her again.  I knew something was wrong before and I didn't know what it was.  I can read you like a book, Sammy, been doin' it all my life.  We're fighting, but I've never seen you more relaxed because you're here with her and you know she's okay.  You know what's out there, Sam.  I can't leave you and her here knowing what I know."

"Are you staying?"

"I think I'm staying, at least for now."

"Give me the next ten minutes.  We can handle that.  And then the next ten after that.  That's all I need, Dean.  Please."


	7. Hallelujah

Dean pulls his legs up into the crook of his hips and dives into Sam's mouth like he's starving man in a desert and Sam can't help but moan into his mouth.  He's being attacked, shoved into the cushions of this couch, being ravaged like Dean's gonna die if they don't do this.  He's never been so hot before, never felt the electricity of Dean flow through him so freely before.  Dean sits up on his haunches and Sam almost cusses him out until Dean's pulling a condom out of his wallet.  Not foolproof -- wallets are notorious for deteriorating the strength of a condom, but it'll get the job done, Sam doesn't care.  Dean is grinding their crotches together through rough denim and the pain is almost better than the pleasure.

Sam doesn't know what Dean did in purgatory and Sam doesn't really care, but he didn't have sex for a year.  He feels like his skin is breaking apart.

Nothing needs to be said, Sam just needs to hear Dean moan so he fists Dean's hair, pulls his head back and attacks his throat with blunt teeth.  Sam's painting his marks across Dean's skin, sucking pretty purple galaxies into the milky whiteness.  Dean's sound is guttural, angry, and he slams his hips into Sam's, cock head digging in just right.  They're rutting against each other like teenagers -- Sam remembers too many occasions when John would "be right back" and Sam and Dean had no idea how much time they'd have to get off.  A lot of jeans got ruined that way.

"Fuck, Dean, I need you," he says, and Dean rips his jeans open.  They have no coordination, falling slightly out of sync it would seem to the untrained eye but no one knows the other better than they do.  They know how the other thinks, how they tick, what they know and what they want.  Sam knows they have to fall out before they can fall back in.  Sam knows they have to get ruined before they can get fixed and things get worse before they can get better.

Dean wraps his hand around Sam's throat and squeezes gently, shoving his tongue into deep into Sam's mouth.  Dean's not normally like this -- ravenous.  Purgatory changed him, or he's just that angry and hate sex is the only way to fix them.

Sam's shirt is ripped open and Dean has to stop himself for a moment.  Sam's body isn't the same as it was before he disappeared.  It's softer now and something in Dean changes as he looks down at Sam's skin.  There's no sharp edges, no hard planes of muscle for him to hold onto...  just the remnants of birth, of labor and of hardships.  His finger lightly traces a stretch mark, and Dean fumbles as he leans down to press his lips to it.

They aren't okay, and not a lot of talking was had after Lorelai fell asleep in Dean's arms.  He'd put her down, they both grabbed a beer from the fridge, and when Sam's ass bumped Dean's hip as he bent down to grab a bottle opener, something happened.

Dean isn't that animal right now, not anymore.  He licks a possessive stripe up Sam's stomach, looks up and locks eyes with him as he scoots down the couch.  He's careful as he removes Sam's clothes.  Sam isn't sure he likes the softness because he's so hard he's aching, and Dean doesn't even touch his cock.  He goes straight for Sam's ass, lifting his legs onto his shoulders and licking a broad stripe across his hole.  Sam jumps -- he hasn't been touched by another person since Dean, since that fateful day.  He's sensitive and jesus christ if this doesn't feel fuckin' magical.  Sam arches his back and tries to ride Dean's face, but the couch is uncomfortable and tiny.  Sam is easy to please though, hair standing on end, legs shaking as Dean writes a novel across Sam's skin.  The tip of his tongue is incredible as he works Sam open, and a part of him sparks with jealousy because when the hell did Dean get so good at eating ass, but another part doesn't care because WOW when did Dean get so good at eating ass?

Sam already feels hoarse from moaning so loud, he feels like he's going to cum, has to almost shout at Dean to stop when Dean shoves a finger in.

"Stop!  Stop, 'm not ready."  His chest is heaving with every breath.  He can almost see stars.  "Fuck, I'm not ready.  Need you inside me, Dean.  Hurry."

Dean snarls, Sam's fuckin' sure of it, and Dean crawls his way up Sam's body.  The gentleness is gone as Dean takes chunks out of Sam's skin, love bites across the aliveness, echoing the marks Sam made across his neck.

Dean shoves his jeans down enough, rolls the condom on and the Lord himself must have touched down and granted them with lube because Sam feels Dean's slippery fingers between his legs.

"Where the fuck did you get that?!"

Dean just grins and holds up a packet.  "Sample sizes, Sam!  Perfect for wallets.  Is that the spot?"

"Jesus _fucking_ Christ!"

Sam can hear Dean smirking when he finds that perfect spot.  Sam's about to unravel and Dean is being a smug bastard.  Sam's all but writhing beneath him, feeling the sweet burn of the stretch of his fingers and almost craving the pain at the same time.  Sam doesn't care if it hurts -- he wants it now.

Suddenly, Dean's lips are on his in a kiss that would rouse the dead -- open and heavy and heady and glorious as Dean lines himself up and pushes in.  Sam moans around Dean's mouth, tries to breathe through the pain.  It feels so good and it burns at the same time and he's trying not to cry because, wow, he's waited a year for this, never thought he would have this again and here Dean is still here despite the terrible fight they're having.  Maybe it means they're growing or maybe it just means Dean was horny but Sam doesn't care right now.  He's drowning in Dean and he welcomes death.

Dean doesn't pull away from the kiss, just deepens it, runs his tongue across Sam's bottom lip and pushes all the way in.  He stays still for a moment, adjusts his footing and lets one leg fall off the couch for better leverage, and he starts to thrust.  It's slow at first and Sam digs ins fingernails into Dean's shoulder blades.  Dean's bleeding and Sam wants to lap up the blood.  What's one more level of closeness in the league of what they already know?  Dean just lets his forehead rests against Sam's as he quickens his speed.  They're one right now, together working toward one goal of release.  Dean's hold is twisting its way up Sam's spine.  Sam can swear that it's some kind of freaky, paranormal bond they have because they're soulmates but who fucking cares when he's getting plowed by his brother?  It should be gross and it shouldn't be okay but they're so far beyond that now that who can possibly bring themselves to care?

Sam's moans are echoing themselves, straining in his throat as Dean adjusts his angle and slams home right into Sam's hips.  Dean lets go of one of Sam's legs in favor of wrapping it around Sam's cock.  Dean knows Sam's cock better than he knows is own and Dean knows if he wants this to last, he'll steer clear of Sam's balls but that's exactly what he doesn't do.  Sam knows Dean and he knows that Dean wants him to suffer beautifully, wants him craving and struggling and moaning Dean's name like a mantra, a prayer.  Dean is worshiping at Sam's altar and this is his deliverance, his offering.  He offers his body in hopes that Sam will offer his soul.

Sam comes lightning quick around Dean's cock, all over himself and Dean's hand, a shout that plagues his throat with strain.  He's shaking underneath Dean, too much pressure and too much pleasure.  Dean comes right after.  Neither of them care about the mess as Dean lets himself fall into Sam's arms.

Sam is panting, legs shaking, soft moans still breaking through gritted teeth as the aftershocks refuse to fade.  Dean reaches between them and strokes Sam's cock, and fuck him if he doesn't get hard all over again.  He whines, back arching.  Dean's too spent to do anything more than jack Sam off and he's perfectly fine with that, tired arms gripping the cheap leather, legs still shaking as Dean brings him to his second orgasm.  Dean leans across them and laps up some of Sam's come with his tongue.  Sam comes even harder if it's possible.

He wasn't prepared to go numb.

Sam wakes after and indeterminate amount of time.  Dean's still on top of him, hand sprawled across his chest.  He feels sticky and cold where lube has dried between his legs.  Dean is asleep on him.  It's dark outside.

He can hear Amelia singing to Lorelai softly through the baby monitor.  He's embarrassed, wonders when she got home and wonders what the fuck she thought coming home to this monstrosity on her couch.  Sam's couch.

He paid for it.

Dean is knocked out, so it's easy for Sam to pry himself free from underneath him.  He doesn't know if they're okay, but he presses a kiss to Dean's temple anyway and pulls his briefs back on.  He needs a shower.

Turns out it's only 9 o'clock, and Amelia loved getting an assful of Dean Winchester.

"It's like...  perfectly round.  Did you know that?  I mean, I thought your ass was a masterpiece?  But God has blessed that man --"

"Hey!  Watch it!"

"I'm not discrediting your ass, Sam!  I'm just saying..."

He has to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but he kisses her forehead anyway.  He's glad to see her.  She looks at home in the rocking chair in Lorelai's nursery.

"He must've really knocked your ass out, literally, if you were still asleep when she started hollering."

"How long was I out for?  When did you get home?"

"Maybe an hour ago," she says, shrugging gently.  Lorelai is fast asleep in her arms, no bottle necessary for now.  "All the lights were still on and I think I saw a penis I shouldn't have seen, but neither of you woke up.  I'm assuming you're okay?"

"I'm not sure.  I...  I literally have no idea.  The sex was not planned."

"I can see that.  You broke the couch."

"I did not _break_ it -- the leather was cheap anyway.  One tear in the armrest doesn't make it broken.  Is she okay?"

Amelia rolls her eyes.  "Perfect, like she always is.  Just needed a change and a bottle before going to sleep for good.  I can't believe you guys fucked on our couch in our living room, Sam.  We can't have people over until we replace the couch."

"Oh, my God.  We are not replacing the couch just because I had sex on it!"

"We are replacing it because your cum stains are all over it!  Like, how did that even happen?  Was him meeting her completely fucking beautiful?  Did he cry?  Did you guys have a heartfelt family reunion?"

"Something like that..."  He sighs.  "I'm not sure if he's leaving.  Hunting... it's his whole life.  It's what he knows.  It's what he's always done.  I know he loves kids and I know he's always wanted them, but he can't have them if he's hunting, and he can't hunt if he's got a kid out there somewhere.  Children are a liability.  It's dangerous.  This life, this hunting thing?  It's not safe.  Someone is always looking for a weakness and if there's anything that's a weakness, it's a child.  You can't raise those kids in the life.  It fucks them up.  I know hunters with kids and I know hunters with kids on the way and none of them ever get out, not really.  They say they're gonna stop but they never do.  I don't want to raise Lorelai that way.  I'd rather die then raise her like we were raised.  I can't do that to her."

"If you die, there will be no one here to stop her from being raised that way.  I think you're the best thing for her, and I think you know that too, otherwise you wouldn't have had her.  You know I'm always here, too."

"Just another person that can get hurt because of me.  Our entire family is dead, Amelia.  Our parents, cousins, friends, grandparents.  It's just the two of us.  People get close to us and they die.  What does that mean for her?"

"It means you've got some things to think about.  You know I'm always going to be here.  You've already got the house and the hometown...  why not make it permanent?  Why can't Dean still hunt as long as he keeps it in the state, or at least the south?  Sure, it means he might be gone sometimes, or maybe both of you are gone sometimes!  You've got a babysitter who gets it.  I let you draw weird things on the walls under the paint and I let you install weird alarms and systems...  I don't get it, but I don't need to."

"I love him."

"I know."

They both jump when they hear Dean's voice from the doorway.


	8. Send My Love (To Your New Lover)

"So, you're Sammy's girl, huh?"

She looks nervous, passes a glace between the both of them and Sam gives her a small nod.  It's okay.  Don't worry.

"Um, ya.  We never, um...  we didn't.  Do anything."

"That's not why I'm asking."

There's a lull in the conversation -- Amelia's eyeing him like he's a wild animal on its last nerve, like he's seconds away from snapping into a thousand pieces.  She looks nervous, and Sam can't do anything but look at Dean and want him twice as much as he did a few hours ago.  God damn, that fuckin' jaw and the way his eyes smolder like that.  He doesn't even try.  He's just so phenomenally hot that Sam doesn't even feel bad about having the hots for his brother.  Like, come on.  There's a reason they've got a daughter.

"Then why are you asking?"

"You're holding my daughter.  Our daughter?  Yours?  What do I even call her?  You've apparently spent the last year with him and I don't even know who you are.  You get to babysit and I get to find out about her in some cheap ass motel room.  Who are you?"

Dean sounds easy and this is still a period of unrest so Sam feels like he has every right to feel this way.  Every right.

"Dean, don't.  Don't take this out on her."

"She was around when I wasn't, Sam.  If anything, I was gonna thank her.  Someone's gotta take care of you dumbass.  Can't even go to the vet right without even passing out in the damn operating room."  Dean sighs heavily, his sentiments half-joking, and scrubs a tired hand over his face.  It's hard to see in the room, only a small nightlight gives them some illumination across their faces.  It's decorated warmly, the most decorated part of the house.  It's painted blue with little flower decorations everywhere and the like.  Lorelai's name is painted across the wall above her window in a pretty glitter script.  It's obvious she's Sam's whole world.  "You took care of him when I wasn't around."

That's all he says.  It's probably the closest thing to a "thanks" she's going to get.

"I never really had a choice in the matter.  You take one look at those eyes and you're kind of a goner.  Same thing with Lorelai.  You don't really have a choice.  They just have to...  look at you."

The room comes to a pause as both Dean and Amelia look up and over at Sam, like everything that's happened in their entire lives was his fault because of his damn puppy dog eyes.  He's not okay with it.

"Do you mind watching her so Sammy and I can have another talk?"

Sam doesn't want to talk anymore, but Amelia nods.  She's more than happy to, willing almost.

They're in the living room again and Sam stops short of the doorway, leans against the door frame and crosses his arms over his chest as he watches his brother exist for a moment.  Dean goes to sit on the couch, and he's uneasy.  This isn't normal for him, in some way that Sam doesn't understand.  He's tense, keeps letting his eyes wander and all Sam wants to know is what the fuck happened in purgatory, but now is not the time.  It seems like Dean's bones ache when he sits down, his face betrays him of the pain.

Dean looks so lost and Sam doesn't know what to do.

"I meant it," he says, pausing for only a moment to lick his lips.  "If you go, you go.  If you stay...  there's no half in half out.  That kind of life gets people killed way more often than being all in does."  Dean doesn't seem to agree, but Sam keeps talking.  "It's a baby, Dean.  Our baby.  Our blood.  Both of us are at fault for bringing her into this, but I won't be shamed for making the decision to keep her.  I thought you were gone.  For good.  Like I always do every time this happens.  I always think it's for good, because if I didn't?  Imagine how fuckin' delusional I'd be if it ever really were for good?  I'd lose my mind, but that also means that I can't do this again.  I can't 'maybe' lose you again.  I can't have you go out there and me not know if you'll ever come back, and the same goes for Lorelai.  She can't know that kind of pain either, Dean."

"I don't want her growin' up without a mom and a dad."

"Amelia."

Dean's expression falls painfully, and Dean has to look away for a moment.

"You've got this all figured out, don't you, Sammy?  Because that's what you do.  Always the bleeding fuckin' heart.  I don't want to leave, Sam, but I can't abandon the things that are my responsibility.  I can't just ditch everything.  I've got Kevin and-and..."  There's something Dean isn't telling him.  There always is.  "It don't matter, Sam.  There's stuff that needs to be taken care of.  We can't just settle down and ditch the life!  It don't matter if there's one kid or ten."

"There's only one, Dean.  Her name is Lorelai.  She's asleep in that other room.  She's right there and you know she is.  You could at least acknowledge her."

Dean surprises Sam when he gets up from the couch and crosses to where Sam is in the doorway.  They don't touch, but Dean stares up at him for long moments.

"I've gone my whole life lookin' out for one person -- you.  I had one job, Sam: take care of you.  I think I've done a pretty damn good job.  You're a remarkable human being, Sam, but sometimes I gotta fuckin' wonder when the hell you turned into such a good, selfless person.  You never ask for anything.  You gotta be bleeding out on the floor before you admit something's wrong with you, and even then I gotta force the sutures into you!  And then you went and gave me a baby.  Lorelai.  If that's not a gift, then I don't know what is, even if you didn't think I was comin' back.  I fought every day in there, Sam.  I did things I'm not proud of, but to go from that to...  to this?  To seein' you with a baby?  There weren't babies there, Sam.  There were monsters.  I don't trust myself with her."

Dean's afraid.

"You're afraid you're going to hurt her."

He shakes his head.  

"Didn't matter what I did to keep you from this life, Sam.  You were a better thief by 11 than I was at 15.  You were better with knives at 12 than dad and I ever were.  Still are.  I mean...  It didn't matter -- I couldn't save you from it no matter how hard I tried.  I can't save her from it, either.  It's better if I leave."

"Maybe it is.  I'm a grownup now, Dean, and I can tell that this isn't going to work out.  I was ready for this.  I had six months to get ready for this.  You had a seven hour drive.  Hunting is what you love, I get that, and I'm willing to let you leave me to go do it.  I am a grownup and I know that not everything works out.  Maybe this isn't supposed to."

Dean just rolls his eyes, huffs his disagreement.

"But seriously?  Death couldn't even separate us, Sam.  I fought for a year to come back, ya, but to come back to you.  If you weren't here, if you were in Heaven?  I wouldn't have even bothered trying.  Dying would have taken me straight to you.  Death, angels, demons...  it doesn't matter.  We always fight it, so why are we going to let this break us up?  We're brothers first, Sam.  You said that to me."

Sam looks away, worries at his bottom lip.  Dean is right.  They've overcome literally everything for one another.  They probably wouldn't have even gone this far to save Dad, or even Mary.  There's so much they probably wouldn't have even thought of to do, but if it was for their brother?  Nothing was too far.  Nothing was too much.  Dean grabs a hold of his waist, pulls him away from the doorframe and settles their hips together.  Dean's skin is warm and Sam craves it but he won't give in to the temptation.

"Give me a year -- a year to clean all this up.  To find Kevin, to kill Crowley and to make sure you guys are safe."

A year.

"Remember what happened the last time you promised me a year?"  Dean doesn't say anything.  "And the last year, what about that?  What about when I was having Lorelai and you were gone, what about that, Dean?  You get to go off and hunt and I'm left here raising your child?  I'm left here with the promise of a telephone call every now and then and you get to see your daughter grow up through pictures?  I get to raise her all by myself?  I get to live not knowing if the last phone call really is the last phone call?  Because you want to leave for a year to go hunting?"

"So what do you want, Sam?  I'm trying!"

"I want you to stay, one hundred percent, or leave.  Leave.  Stay gone!  Because if you're gonna go you might as well be gone for good!  I can't handle you doing this to me again, Dean, I can't.  How many times have I lost you and the last time is gonna be you leaving me _willingly_?  Because you love hunting more than you love me?!  More than your daughter?!  I get it, you don't know her, but you know me!  You love me!"  Sam's hands reach up to cup Dean's cheeks, and Dean tries to pull away but Sam doesn't let him.  "I love you.  We never say it because of you but I don't care anymore.  I love you, Dean.  I wouldn't have done this if I didn't.  I wouldn't have had her if I didn't love you, but I knew you were gone and I knew I was alone and she would be the only part of you I'd have left.  A living, breathing part of you.  She's beautiful, Dean.  She has your eyes."

Sam lets his hands fall to Dean's shoulders.  There's something smoldering between them.

"I..."

"You what, Dean?"

"I love you.  I can't leave.  I can't just leave you."

"What about Kevin?"

"We'll figure it out.  We always do."

Sam wants to punch him in his stupid, perfect jaw.  We'll figure it out?  Jesus.  He pulls Dean into a kiss that ought to break their teeth, but instead they both sigh into it.  Every time they touch it's like their souls are being fed, or like they're coming together.  Soulmates is one soul split into two bodies, right?  Weren't their births orchestrated?  Aren't they supposed to be together?

"I can't leave you guys, Sammy.  I can't do that.  Kevin?  I'm pissed.  I'm furious, but it's our job to protect him and we'll figure it out.  Okay?"

"Okay."


	9. Hymnal

A day passes where Sam gets a glimpse into what his family would be like if they were _normal_ \-- they go to sleep in the master bedroom with Lorelai by their side in her bassinet.  She cries at 3am, and Sam's used to not sleeping through the night, but Dean groans and grumbles the entire way through it.  Sam can't stop the smile on his face, though, when Dean holds a hand out and he's the one that gets up with her.  He lifts her out of her little bed, pats her on the butt a few times and jostles her in his arms gently.

"Come on, baby girl, you're just hungry.  No need to holler at all hours of the night.  Sam, I'm not a pro like you.  I can't make her a bottle and hold her at the same time!"

Sam was well out of bed by that time, and already on his way to the kitchen by that time, so he doesn't even say anything.  He's standing at the sink pouring some purified water into a bottle when he has to stop for a second.  A week ago, he was a single father.  A week ago, he and Amelia were accidentally getting caught up in themselves, Amelia on the kitchen counter and Sam's tongue in her mouth, fingers pulling up the hem of her shirt to play with her milky skin.  He had no idea that Dean would be back.  Sam has been in love with a Amelia for a long time, but this thing with Dean is so treacherous and fickle that the second he rears his head, everything else gets eclipsed.

He remembers her skin, how warm it felt...  and then he had sex with Dean on the couch they bought together.

She didn't look upset, but he knows her.  She's never been the kind to be angry immediately.  She'll ruminate.  She's a virgo.

Still, Sam always thought he'd be a single father.  Dean was gone and Sam would be alone forever, raising their daughter either alone, or with God knows who.  Now Dean is in Sam's room, tending to their daughter.  Changing her diaper.  He's got every intention of putting her back to sleep once Sam is done with this bottle.  Dean is here.  Sam doesn't even bother to try and stop the tear from falling.

Dean is alive...  but when did that mean their lives had to be so turned around?

He returns with the bottle, and both Dean and the baby are in the rocking chair.

"You get lost?"

"Somethin' like that."  He hands over the bottle.  "Are you okay?"

"Sam," he says, shaking his head, "you lied to me."

"What?"

"You said she looked just like me, but God damn...  this child looks exactly like you.  She's got your crazy aquamarine colored eyes, Sam.  Her hair is even the same color as yours.  Same lips...  You never said she looked just like you."

"Are you falling in love with her?"

Dean smiles at him, and Sam's stupid heart does flipflops in his chest.

"I fell in love the second I got her, bro."

Sam's glimpse into this happy life doesn't last as long as he wants.  He wants them to just stay here in this limbo land where everything is okay.  Dean's happy, Sam has Dean, Lorelai has her parents and no one is dying, not today.  Sam doesn't know what to do.  Dean gets a phone call, won't tell Sam who it is but he steps out of the house and even gets into the Impala so he can have a private conversation.  Lorelai's crying.  Amelia won't look at him.

Sam feels like there are tiny weights hanging from his heart that swing and tug every time he moves.  Every time he looks at Dean.

Dean leaves to buy beer or formula or something and Amelia's walking around in her underwear.  Sam feels himself grow hard at the sight of her, God she's beautiful, but he can't do that her, not when Dean's back.

"You know," she says, stepping out onto the back patio for a cigarette (when did she start smoking?), "I never...  I didn't think..."  She pauses, laughs to herself.  "Maybe that's my fuckin' problem.  I didn't think.  I didn't know anything about you, and here we were.  Maybe I felt sorry for you."

Sam presses his lips together, nodding, takes the cigarette from her and tries to kill it in one breath.  Maybe he's hoping it will kill him.

"I would have felt sorry for me."

She just rolls her eyes, all that hair bobbing as she tries to make sense of her thoughts.

"I'm in love with you."

"I know.  I'm in love with you, too."

"But I can't be.  Your husband came back.  I can't...  I can't be that person!  I can't ask you to pick me over him!  You guys have a kid!  A kid that I regularly spend time with!  This is crazy, Sam!  Don't you even see that?!"

Sam wishes he could _un_ see it.

"Trust me, I know more than anyone that this is fucking crazy.  I can't ask you to stay here, or to spend any more time with me and Dean.  I can't...  I would have taken off the second Dean got back.  If I were you."

"What if Don came back?"

"I'd have tucked tail and left.  I can't...  I wouldn't ask that of you."

She just grimaces, smoke curling above her head.  She's an interesting picture in the foreground -- long legs that meet blue lacy underwear, stretch of toned stomach that meet a bra that doesn't match, all against a brown background of fence and green grass.  Hell, there's even a nice patio furniture set for her to perch on.  Sam's in love with her wickedness, her effortless beauty, the way she commands him with just a simple glance.  She's someone he could see himself marrying...  the only other person since Jess.

"I'm sorry."

She scoffs, rolls her eyes in that Amelia way, but there's no sharp insult slung back at him.  She's sorry, too, he can feel it.

"I know, Sam.  What am I supposed to do?"

Sam wishes he had an answer to all their fuckin' problems.

They go back to living in this weird alternate universe:  two men, a woman and a baby.

Dean and Amelia talk in hushed tones and Sam is reminded of older days when Dean and John were crowded around whiskey bottles talking in the same hushed whispers about Mary.  Amelia is mad at him.  She's gone more often than she's here, and he actually misses her.  He's not surprised, not really, because when you fall in love with someone, you tend to miss them, but then Dean shows up or Dean talks or Dean laughs or Dean holds their baby and Amelia is completely eclipsed by whatever fucking thing this is with Dean.

"I birthed a fucking genius, you guys!"  He kind of feels like he's talking to himself, but he's got his phone on "record" while Lorelai delights him with her ability to roll over when on her stomach.  It makes Sam feel warm all over.  The fruit of his looms...  he looks over at Dean who smiles from behind the neck of his beer, but Sam knows things will never be okay.

He stops the recording and makes sure to celebrate her latest victory before reaching for his laptop and shoving it at Dean.

"You need to go back to Centreville.  Go find Kevin.  Make sure he's okay, and if he's not, fix it, because you're not happy here."

Dean sighs heavily, and he's the first one to react when Lorelai starts crying on the ground.  He lifts her into his arms and she stops crying the second she's there and Sam has to keep fucking wondering why the hell Dean still needs to hunt if this little girl already loves him?  Sam also tries to find the part of himself that used to care about Kevin.  Maybe it was replaced with the little girl.

Sam hates himself.

"You don't have to come back at me like that, Dean.  Just admit it.  You're going stir crazy.  You can leave.  I...  I don't know how I feel about a year, I can't give you that right now, but I can give you a couple days to go find Kevin."

"You won't go with me?"

"Someone has to look after Lorelai.  I...  I can't hunt anymore, Dean.  I can't.  I can't leave her without a mom.  I know it wasn't Mary's fault, but I was six months old when she died.  The first time I ever said 'mom', it wasn't my memory and she didn't even hear me.  I can't go back to hunting."

Dean doesn't look angry at him, for once.

"You never really wanted back into it anyway.  You...  do you remember that episode of Lizzie McGuire?  That one where she's really fuckin' good at rhythmic gymnastics, but she doesn't love it?  You're Lizzie McGuire.  You could drink me under the table, and kill me before I even knew what was happening.  You can fist fight better than any MMA champion I've ever seen.  You are probably one of the best hunters in the world, better than I could ever even train to be...  but you hate it.  I can't blame you for that, Sammy.  You've...  I don't want to make you do something you don't want to do."

"Then don't make me raise this child by myself.  Find Kevin.  Come back to me.  Just...  promise that you're gonna come back?"

Dean's gone a whole day before Sam has sex with Amelia.


	10. Melt My Heart to Stone

His skin is crawling with emotions, high and low, darkness and death that rattle along his teeth and try to wedge their way in between the bone and muscle.  Visceral fear, tangible pain that you can reach out and grab at with clammy hands.  He feels like his body is falling into pieces like wax and hopefully one day he'll be able to melt away.  He can't stop himself.  It feels like the demon blood over again -- no matter how bad he knows this is, how wrong it is and how much he wants to stop, he can't.  There's something pulling him in -- her tight heat, her wet thighs, her pretty moans.  Just because Dean came back didn't mean they were exclusive again and even when they were together it's not like Dean had ever put a contract on their relationship.  How many times has Dean let his hand stray before?  How many people were there in purgatory that he gave the time of day?  Things hadn't ever really been the same since he got his soul back.  The last time Dean touched him was when Bobby died, and before that?  The memories have started becoming less and less clear.

There are so many ugly things brewing inside of Sam that he feels like he's almost back on the blood again, so ugly and twisted inside because only someone addicted to something so dark would make mistakes like this.  There's a baby down the hall and Sam's fucking Amelia into his mattress.  He and Dean had slept in this bed together not 24 hours before this, but you can't really help some things, can you?  There's a hurricane inside of him, tearing down walls and dismantling entire cities.  Sam's a vacant desert with lush soil waiting to be watered again.  Maybe this is his slate being wiped clean, maybe a new beginning.

He's trying so desperately to keep himself together, but he feels like he's spiraling apart.  It feels like every time something goes right, Sam has to do everything he can to make it go wrong.  Is it his nature?  Is it his unwavering need to do the right thing, to please everyone, to be the good guy, even if it means ruining what he already has?

Amelia appears in the doorway wearing his shirt and nothing else.  She looks beautiful, and he wishes there were something about her he could find ugly, just to make this feel less right.  The crook of her teeth, her skinny nose, her wiry hair. maybe her skin feels like sand paper.  Even if he has to invent things to feel bad about, it would be way fucking easier than just feeling guilty.

He deserves it.

Dean is out hunting and finding Kevin and Lorelai is asleep down the hall and Sam is having sex with Amelia.

Sam can overthink anything, talk himself until his throat bleeds, but there may never be an answer.  A week, or a year.  Dean is still hunting and Sam is still alone.  He'd just gotten Dean back only to have him leave all over again.

"It's official -- I hate plaid."  She smiles a little, tries to lighten the mood because she can very clearly read that Sam is looking around the room desperate for something to shove in his carotid.  "Say something."

Please find something in this room to shove into my carotid.  I am literally begging for death.  Maybe that's too forward.  He watches her cross from the bathroom doorway to the bed, and her weight is heavy as she sits down on the side.  Her hand is warm when she reaches over to spread her fingers out across his chest.  She feels real.  All of this feels real.  He even rubs at his hand, a nervous habit, but it still reminds him that all of this is real.

"Say something?"  He scoffs.  "What do you want me to say?  That was great?  That was...  a mistake?  Because it was.  A huge, horrible mistake."

"Wow...  Both?  I don't know.  Maybe both...  Maybe not that you instantly regret it.  Maybe give yourself an hour or two before scrubbing yourself clean.  I don't know.  You could have a life here, Sam.  A man that loves you.  A baby."

"Don't you think I know that?"  He can't believe that she's making this out to be his fault, that it doesn't take two people to make a bad decision like this.  His stomach feels empty, like it's trying to revolt but he has to stand his ground.  He has to listen to her, because if he doesn't listen to her, what gives her any reason to listen to him?

"Do you know you're the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing before I go to sleep?  It's tough to let something like that go.  Especially if you keep showing up here?  If you keep doing this?"

"Are you saying you want me to leave?"

"I'm telling you that if you stay, against everything I believe in, I would be with you.  But if you leave... don't come back.  If you pick Dean?  Stay gone.  I can't have you with one foot in my life and one foot out there doing... whatever it is you do.  That life of yours I have no idea about.  You've got a baby with a man you...  I don't even know.  It's so twisted up and tangled between the both of you that it's almost scary to even think about.  I can't imagine being so wrapped up in another person like that, and then to have his child?  How are you even giving me the time of day?"

He really wishes he knew.  

"Words will never cover what you mean to me, but I can't do this, Amelia.  I may love you, but I have to think about my daughter.  That's not to say that I don't want you in my life, but at least for now?  Maybe I should leave.  Maybe leaving is what's best for both of us.  I love you because of who you are, and not because you replaced Dean.  I don't just love you because you were there."

"I really love you, too," she says, "I really tried, y'know?  To be the best for you.  I mean, at least to be a good friend.  I didn't mean to fall in love with you, Sam.  I'm sorry.  I'm sorry if that complicates anything, and I'm kinda sorry I told you."

At least she's smiling.

"I'm... I told you before.  I'm not going to lie to you.  I'm in love with you, but what I have with Dean?  What you have with Don?  Would you pick me over him?"

"Absolutely not."

"We never got our chance, and I'm not blaming Dean for that.  I'm not blaming anyone.  I don't really know what to say.  We said we weren't going to, and we didn't, but that didn't stop us.  You can't help it, can you?  Are you supposed to be able to help it?  I don't know.  I don't know a lot of things."

Sam calls in a favor from an old friend and two hours later there's a white pick-up truck parked on the lawn.  Jacob, a hunter from Oklahoma with whom he had a one night stand with about a hundred years ago, before Dean, pulls Sam in tight for a hug, slaps him on the back when he finds out Sam has a kid.  They don't talk for long, but Sam promises to keep in touch, promises to do everything he can to keep that little girl out of the job.

The text from Dean reads " _Everything ok_?" and Sam texts back " _Yes_ " and Dean doesn't call or text back right away.

It only takes Sam about two hours to get this whole life packed up into the back of the pickup truck.  Most of the things don't belong to him, 80% of it belongs to Lorelai, and she just watches him from her little bouncer while he packs up her whole life.  In three months, she's acquired quite the arsenal.  Sam still hasn't managed not living out of a duffel bag.

"You almost ready, mama?"  She doesn't respond.  "This would be a lot easier if you could answer me.  One day I'm gonna be begging you to stop talking."  She just stares up at him with those giant eyes, the most intimate eye contact Sam has ever shared with another person, until she grins big and wide at him like he's her whole world.  He has to stop and reward her for that, lifting her from the little bounder and giving her kisses all over until she grins even more.

With the last year thrown into the back of a truck, Sam doesn't tell Amelia goodbye.  He leaves her a note and his keys, some cash and their memories as he locks the door behind him.

The GPS he's got locked onto Dean's phone tells him Dean isn't too far.  Maybe this isn't the best idea, but it's all he's got right now.  Lorelai sleeps sweetly and the road, gentle and loyal as ever, carries him like she has the last 33 years of his life.  Always there, like the Impala, always reliable and always honest.


End file.
